


and you were mine

by lovecamedown



Series: i'm where i'm meant to be [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Abuse/Grief, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More warnings in the notes!, Nightmares, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 05:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12074754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovecamedown/pseuds/lovecamedown
Summary: “You know…it was worth it,” Bucky says after a while, his voice a soft whisper.“Hmm?”“It was worth it,”“What was worth it?”/the one where steve and bucky are living together, dealing with the aftermath of all they've been through. life may not be perfect or easy or great all the time, but at least they have each other. this time, they have each other.





	and you were mine

**Author's Note:**

> just a lil heads up for this fic: there are nightmares and discussions of grief (Steve dealing with losing his mother). Also depression/anxiety themes throughout, but it's nothing too graphic. please let me know if you need anything else tagged and i'll do my best to keep it in tags in all my other fics. i want you to be sure you have the tags you need to feel safe to read <3 
> 
> also, this is set after everything with the government is A-OK once more, and Bucky has come back up from cryo, and they're living together as a couple. i'm hoping to write a prequel to this :)  
> literally idk what it is but I love writing fics where it’s just small little snippets in to their lives. Like, there’s no plot, or maybe a smidgen of plot, and you just check in during various angsty or fluffy moments and it’s just so much fun to write :’)
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this mismatched fic as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 (sorry for the long ass note)

Steve stirs in the middle of the night.

He rolls over and lifts out his arm, expecting it to fall gently around Bucky, but instead it goes straight down on to an empty mattress.

Waking fully, Steve opens his eyes and frowns at the empty space. He looks to the door to find it slightly ajar (it doesn’t close properly without making a loud noise, so it’s often left open just a crack), and there’s a light on down the hall.

Sleepily, Steve gets up, rubbing his eyes as he walks down the hall towards the living room. He finds Bucky sitting on the couch in front of him, facing the other way, no TV on or books missing from the shelf. He's just sitting there, and Steve’s heart weighs heavy in his chest at the sight of his hunched shoulders, one hand cupping the back of his neck.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, slowly approaching Bucky from behind so as not to startle him. “Nightmare?”

Bucky turns to him, his eyes red, bloodshot, and very tired. “Did I wake you?”

“Sort of,” Steve moves closer. “I went to put my arm around you, and you weren’t there. It woke me up.”

Bucky smirks, tired and a little half-hearted. “I’d have stayed in bed if I’d known you were feeling cuddly.”

Steve smiles gently at Bucky’s humour; still prominent even after all he’s been through and continues to go through. Steve walks around in front of the sofa and sits down beside his boyfriend. “I’m always feeling cuddly. You know that.”

Bucky laughs through his nose, lifting his shoulders with the chuckle, just staring down at his lap with a sad smirk on his lips.

In offering, Steve lifts up his arm just above Bucky’s shoulders. He responds immediately, turning in to Steve’s embrace, moving under his arm and pressing his head in to his chest.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Steve asks, bringing up his hand to lightly stroke through Bucky’s hair.

“Dunno.” He murmurs sleepily. Steve just holds him tighter, waiting patiently for if and when he decides he’d like to speak.

A few minutes pass, Steve just listening to Bucky’s breathing, somehow knowing that the reason his head is resting on his chest is because he’s listening to his heartbeat. Bucky likes to do that, especially after a nightmare or panic attack; it grounds him, reminds him that he’s okay, he’s free, and he’s not alone.

“You don’t have to stay up with me,” Bucky murmurs in to his chest, but he’s holding on tighter to Steve now, and Steve knows he doesn’t want him to leave.

Not that he had any intentions of doing so, anyway. “You always say that, Buck.”

“I mean it, though,”

“And so do I,” Steve presses his lips against Bucky’s hair. “I’m staying.”

“Love you,” his voice is just a mutter because his mouth is pressed in to Steve’s collar bone, but Steve can feel his voice as well as hear it.

“I love you too. And I’m here if you need to talk.”

“It was just…flashbacks. Memories. Things I’ve tried to suppress.”

Steve runs his hand down Bucky’s arm, then back up again.

“And I know, I _know_ , all the usual lines. _It wasn’t me_ , and _I had no choice_. I _know_ that. I know all of it. But…I also _remember_ all of it. And I’ve said it all before, I know, but…,”

“You can say it as many times as you need to.”

“I know, I just—I’m tired of it.”

“It’ll get better, Buck,” Steve tries to offer some comfort, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s already better than it was before. You’re getting there.”

“Yeah,” he says, sounding less than hopeful. “I guess.”

“Hey,” Steve sits up a little and Bucky lifts his head to look at him. “C’mere.” He cups his hand on Bucky’s cheek and leans in to press a soft, gentle kiss to his lips.

When he pulls away, Bucky is smirking just a little, and it’s such a welcome sight. He reaches up, brushes a little piece of hair from Steve’s forehead. “You just trying to distract me?”

Steve shrugs, a grin tugging at his lips. “Maybe a little.”

Bucky lets his hand settle against Steve's cheek, smoothing his thumb over his cheekbone and leaning in to kiss him again.

“Listen,” Steve says, his voice so soft it’s almost a whisper. He looks Bucky right in the eyes. “You’re gonna be okay.”

A tiny little smile appears on Bucky’s lips. “Thanks, love.”

He kisses his nose. “Are you ready to go try to sleep again?”

Bucky sighs through his nose and leans his forehead against Steve’s, and Steve feels it when he closes his eyes because his eyelashes brush against his own.

“Yeah,” Bucky says eventually, “I think so.”

“I’ll be right next to you.”

“I know.”

They head back to their room hand in hand, and when they lie back down in bed, Steve pulls the covers back up over them and holds Bucky from behind. He wraps his arm over his waist, and Bucky brings his hand up to thread his fingers through Steve’s. Steve smiles when Bucky lifts up their joined hands and kisses Steve’s fingertips.

“‘Night,” Steve murmurs in to the back of Bucky’s neck. “Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

 

When Steve wakes up, it’s 7am, and Bucky is still beside him, curled up in his arms, fast asleep. Steve just lies there for a moment, smiling because he must have slept peacefully after they went back to bed last night.

After a few minutes, he carefully takes his arm out from under Bucky’s, internally cheering when he manages to get up without waking him. Then decides to head in to the bathroom to take a quick shower. He plans to tidy their apartment a little this morning, maybe before Bucky wakes up so he can walk out in to a nice tidy home. Cooking some meals to put in the freezer might also be an idea, he thinks, so they won’t have to worry about that for the rest of the week.

He steps out after turning the shower off and grabs his towel from the back of the door, wrapping it around his waist. When he walks over to the mirror and begins to comb through his wet hair, the door to the bathroom opens and Steve looks through his reflection to see Bucky standing there looking sleepy, wearing just his sweatpants, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile on his face.

“Morning,” Steve smiles, reaching out to grab his deodorant from the shelf above the bath. “How did you sleep?”

“Better,” Bucky smiles, and it’s a lovely sight. “You?”

“I slept like a log.”

“What do you want for breakfast?” Bucky asks, pushing himself off the doorframe to stand behind Steve and wrap his arms around his still damp waist. “I was thinking of cooking something.”

“I kinda feel like pancakes,” Steve leans in to him when he places a kiss on the back of his neck.

“Pancakes it is.”

* * *

“Steve?” Bucky calls softly, opening their bedroom door just a crack and peering inside to find Steve lying in bed, his back to the door. “Hey, you okay?” Bucky crawls up behind him and looks over his shoulder. Steve’s eyes are closed, but he’s awake. It’s the middle of the day, and Bucky knows that Steve only goes to bed in the day if he’s not feeling too great in himself. He puts up a good front, and mostly it fools other people; but not Bucky. He knows that Steve gets overwhelmed; finds it hard to deal with everything. And the feelings he bottles up often come to the surface as insecurity, his self esteem dropping to zero, and often feeling down alongside it. It doesn’t help that Bucky is awake most nights with insomnia or nightmares – or both – and Steve often stays awake with him.

So when Bucky sees him like this today, his eyelids fluttering open as Bucky looks at him, but he doesn’t look back; Bucky can’t help but feel a little guilty. Like this is partially his fault. Because of him, Steve doesn’t get enough sleep, and because of him, Steve has to deal with Bucky’s flashbacks and erratic moods on a daily basis, on top of everything else in his life.

“Hey,” Bucky whispers, reaching out to wrap his arm around Steve from behind, snuggling up against his back and pressing his nose in to his neck. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” Steve shrugs one shoulder. _Yeah_ , Bucky wants to say, _I totally believe you. Not._

“Steve,” he opts for instead, holding Steve’s shoulder, gently trying to turn him around. He does; he shuffles around so he’s facing Bucky, but doesn’t make eye contact. He just keeps his arms tucked in to his chest and looks down at the mattress.

“‘m fine,” Steve murmurs.

“No you’re not,” Bucky says softly. He reaches out to brush the backs of his fingers softly down Steve’s cheek. “You just not feeling good?”

Steve shakes his head. “Not really.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers, on instinct; and he doesn’t entirely mean _I’m sorry you’re feeling shit._ A part of him also means _I’m sorry you’re feeling shit because of me._

Steve knows that’s what he means, too. He looks up at Bucky, finally making eye contact, and frowns. “It’s not your fault.”

“It kinda is,” Bucky shrugs. “It doesn’t help that your boyfriend is another burden on top of everything else.”

“You aren’t a burden,” Steve says, soft but with a hint of firm behind his voice. “Don’t talk like that. Don’t ever talk like that.”

“If you get more sleep, it’ll make you feel better, Steve, I—maybe you shouldn’t stay up with me. I’ll be fine on my own, I promise. I want you to get enough sleep.”

“Bucky…,”

“I mean it,” Bucky insists, the need to make Steve feel better overwhelming, “and—and when I have panic attacks, or anything like that, even in the day, you don’t have to talk me down from them. I can—I can handle myself, if you just need to take some time to chill out, y’know? I know I’m hard work…,”

“Bucky,” Steve says again, this time a little firmer, meeting his eyes once more. Bucky shuts his mouth, because Steve’s gaze is so intense and there’s so much sadness behind his eyes that he doesn’t know what more to say. Steve continues, his face softening as he reaches out to graze his fingertips over the stubble on Bucky’s jaw, “You don’t have to do any of this on your own.”

“But…,” Bucky starts, but his voice fades off, his own sadness and guilt weighing too heavy now. And then he feels even _more_ guilty, because he’s making this about _him_ , when it should be about Steve. “I’m just sorry.”

“Listen,” Steve says gently, and Bucky lifts his eyes back up to look at him. “I don’t need you to fix things right now, okay?”

Bucky pauses for a minute, looking between Steve’s eyes, searching his gaze. Then he begins to nod softly. “Okay.”

A small smile twitches at Steve’s lips. He pushes his hand in to Bucky’s hair and holds the back of his neck.

“What do you need?” Bucky asks, feeling like he should have asked that earlier.

“Just hold me,” Steve rasps, and his words are so genuine and simple, it almost takes Bucky by surprise. “That will fix things.” He finishes.

Bucky feels a lump of emotion rise in his throat. He nods, shuffling in closer and wrapping his arms around Steve. “Yeah,” he says as Steve tucks his head under his chin, “yeah, I can do that.”

Steve starts running his hand so slowly up and down Bucky’s spine, in a gesture that Bucky isn’t sure if it’s supposed to comfort him or Steve. Maybe it’s both.

His hand slides up under Bucky’s shirt and sits on the small of his back, right against his skin. His hands are freezing, and Bucky is perfectly happy to be his heater.

Steve sighs, sounding content and maybe a little relieved. “Thank you,” he whispers in to Bucky’s chest, and Bucky isn’t sure what exactly he’s thanking him for, but he knows without question that Steve is beyond welcome.

* * *

 **Bucky:** can u grab some more orange juice at the store?

 **Steve:** don’t we already have like 3 cartons

 **Bucky:** I want more

 **Steve:** srsly

 **Bucky:** what

 **Steve:** seriously

 **Bucky:** yes

 **Bucky:** love u :D

* * *

“Do you remember when we were kids and we used to try and come up with the weirdest food combinations?”

Steve just smiles when Bucky says that, because every time Bucky brings up their childhood, it makes him happy because _he can remember it_. “Yeah,” he says, “I remember that.”

“And we tried mixing mashed potatoes mixed with eggs and relish and it was surprisingly okay?”

“Oh my God, yes, I forgot about that,” Steve laughs, walking over to the sofa and handing Bucky his glass of orange juice. “I mean, I’m not sure I’d choose to have it, but it wasn’t _awful_.”

“I’m sure someone, somewhere, has it on a regular basis and loves it.”

“That’s true,” he sits beside Bucky who immediately curls up beside him, half on his lap with his legs curled over Steve’s. Steve puts his feet up on the footrest and rests his head on top of Bucky’s. He loves it when Bucky gets like this; all cuddly and sappy and like he forgets that he’s actually the same size as Steve, and it’s not really possible for him to properly fit on his lap.

“I should have put the TV on before we sat down and got comfortable,” Steve realises.

“Yeah, that would’ve been a good idea.”

He starts to get up, but Bucky carefully brings him back down and holds him in tighter. “No,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose back in to his neck. “Stay.”

“Bucky, we wanted to watch a movie,” Steve protests, but he’s laughing and wrapping his arms around him.

“We can cuddle instead.”

Bucky can’t see him, but he knows Steve is smirking when he says, “I mean, I _did_ really want to watch Star Wars, though.”

“More than you want to cuddle?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, then shakes his head, “no, of course not.”

There’s a moment of silence, Bucky tracing his metal thumb over the wrinkles in Steve’s shirt, just thinking and reflecting.

“You know…it was worth it,” he says after a while, his voice a soft whisper.

“Hmm?”

“It was worth it,”

“What was worth it?”

Bucky shuffles back just a few inches so he can look up at Steve. His heart is racing at the idea of saying what he’s thinking—these thoughts that are so deep and meaningful and full of so much weight; so much _love_.

“All that time…all the things that happened,” Bucky’s struggling to maintain eye contact, but Steve puts a finger under his chin and lifts his gaze back up, patiently waiting for what he’s going to say. “All the things we went through…everything…I…,”

“Don’t you dare start saying sorry again,” Steve jokes, a gentle smirk on his lips. It makes Bucky smile.

“No, I…I was going to say…all of it was worth it. Everything that happened to me, to the both of us and our relationship and our lives…to me, it was worth it. Because I ended up here. With you. Cuddling with you on our sofa, just the two of us, just like I always wanted.”

Steve’s smile is an awe-filled smile, Bucky can’t help but think, as cheesy as it sounds. He strokes his thumb over Bucky’s cheek and leans in to kiss him softly. When he pulls away, he rests their foreheads together, and Bucky can feel his warm breath on his lips.

“It was worth it,” Steve agrees simply, and just those four words are enough to make Bucky’s heart _soar_.

* * *

One night, Bucky has a nightmare. That's fairly standard, to be honest. Except it's a worse nightmare than normal, because it involves _Steve_. More specifically, Steve on his back on a floor made of glass windows, blood trickling down his face, and Bucky’s metal hand colliding with the wounds that are already there. He’s there again, in that aircraft as SHIELD collapsed around them, and he can’t escape. Can’t stop feeling like he has to kill him. He has to kill the man he once loved. He doesn't have control. Can't _get_ control of his body or his mind.

Steve wakes him up, his voice eventually drawing Bucky from the nightmare as he realises that it’s not Steve’s voice in the dream but, in fact, his voice in real life.

It’s enough to bring him back to the real world, to wake him up, but as soon as he knows he’s beside Steve in bed, he can’t get away fast enough. He can’t hurt him again. He _won’t hurt him again._ No matter what they do to him, no matter what they say or make him feel—

“Bucky,” Steve says, and Bucky jumps, backing away from him straight away, so much so he half tumbles out of bed before he stands and backs towards the wall.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Steve says softly, sitting up, holding his hands out towards him. “Bucky, Buck, it’s me, it’s okay,” he tries to soothe, beginning to step out of bed towards him but Bucky runs to the other end of the room, backing himself in to a corner, so Steve stops moving any closer so as not to rattle him further.

“No! Get away! I—I don’t want to hurt you, you have to stay away—” and the sobs are coming violently out of his throat before he can stop them, tears streaming down his face, his whole body trembling.

“Bucky, it’s me, I trust you, you’re not going to hurt me—”

“I did, I—I hurt you, Steve, I—I hurt you! Get away, I…I can’t…,”

“Hey, shh, breathe, it’s okay,”

"No! I hurt you, I hurt you, I hurt you...," he's clutching his head, fisting clumps of hair in to his hands and repeating those words over and over. It breaks Steve's heart. All he wants to do is wrap Bucky in his arms and hold him so tight, take all the pain away and just let him breathe against him. But he knows that touching him right now in this acute phase is only going to make things worse.

After a while, Steve eventually manages to talk him down from his panic attack enough for Bucky to be able to breathe without the air catching in his throat and immediately making him wretch. Steve watches as he slides weakly down the wall towards the floor, like he's completely giving up, and grips his metal hand against their wardrobe for balance. Steve crouches down to his level, still keeping his distance.

“It’s okay,” Steve whispers.

Bucky can’t look at him. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m so sorry…,”

“Shh,” Steve tries to soothe, reaching out his hand in case he feels ready to take it. “It’s okay, you’re not going to hurt me. I trust you, Bucky.”

Bucky shakes his head, but after a moment, tentatively and slowly reaches out to grasp Steve’s hand. The contact makes him want _more_ , makes him want to be close to Steve and hold him in his arms, making amends for what he did wrong.

Somehow, some way, he finds the courage. Pulls himself off the wall just enough to throw himself in to Steve’s arms, wrapping his own around Steve’s shoulders and burying his face in to his neck.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers, and he’s crying and shaking again, and Steve just holds him so tightly against him. “I’m so sorry. I'm so sorry...,”

“It’s okay,” Steve says gently, bringing a hand up to run through Bucky’s hair. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He says it enough that Bucky maybe starts to believe it, just a little bit, and he manages to stop sobbing long enough to just take in the feel of Steve’s pulse against his nose, one hand running soothing lengths down his hair, the other rubbing circles in between his shoulder blades.

“Shh,” Steve comforts, “it’s okay. It’s okay, Buck.”

Bucky holds on so tight he worries he might be crushing Steve, but he doesn’t protest – in fact, he’s holding on just as tightly in return – and so he lets himself breathe, counting each breath, against Steve’s skin.

“Can you make it to the bed? If you want to get comfortable? Maybe lie down if you need to,” Steve suggests gently.

Bucky just nods feebly, letting Steve carry most of his weight as they walk the few steps over to their bed.

“I’ve got you,” Steve says, sitting Bucky down at the end of the mattress, crouching down in front of him and then reaching out to brush the tear and sweat-soaked tendrils of hair from Bucky’s face. “Alright?”

Bucky nods. He can’t meet Steve’s eyes; not yet. Not when the images of his nightmare are still fresh in his head. The picture of Steve’s face every time Bucky’s metal fist aimed at him. Every time his fist _touched_ him, leaving blood in its wake.

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch? I can, if you want space,”

Bucky immediately shakes his head, because no, he definitely doesn’t want to be apart from Steve, but he also kind of feels like he shouldn’t touch him. Just in case.

“Okay,” Steve says, “I’ll stay.”

Bucky’s head is still hanging in shame. He brings his hand up to wipe away a few stray tears.

“Hey,” Steve sounds like he wants Bucky to look at him, but he doesn’t lift his head, so Steve doesn’t force it. “Can I touch your face?”

Bucky thinks about it for a second, and then nods. Steve’s hand comes up to run along his stubble, so softly and gently, and Bucky closes his eyes in to the touch; this touch filled with forgiveness and love and tenderness. He wants to just melt in to Steve. Right now and forever.

“You are not that person anymore,” Steve’s voice is almost a whisper. “You never were that person. I love you, Bucky. I love you. I love you, and I trust you.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say. He still doesn’t reach out to touch Steve, even though he really wants to.

“Do you need to cry some more? I won’t change my shirt, if you do,” he says, and Bucky finds himself letting out a wet little laugh, glancing up to see the shoulder of Steve’s shirt soaked in Bucky’s tears, and probably sweat, and definitely snot.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. A moment of silence passes as he tries to muster up the courage to look him in the eyes. Finally, he lifts his head and meets Steve’s beautiful blue gaze, his gaze that's looking at him so gently and trustingly. Bucky reaches out with a still somewhat shaky hand and tentatively brushes it down Steve’s cheek. “I love you,” he manages to whisper, albeit weakly, “and I truly am so sorry.”

“You don’t need to say that,” Steve turns his head to kiss the inside of Bucky’s wrist. “I forgive you. It wasn't you, Buck. It wasn't you." And then, "I love you.”

And Bucky’s crying again, although this time he doesn’t hang his head in shame; just reaches out, wrapping Steve in his arms and weeping some more on to that same shoulder.

“I love you,” he says, because it’s all he can think to say, and clings on desperately to Steve’s shirt, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bucky.”

“I—Steve…,”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s always been you,” he whispers, feeling Steve’s hands find purchase in the hair at the back of his neck. “It’s always been you, Steve. Right since the very start. I love you.”

Steve cradles his head. “I love you.”

* * *

Steve’s hands are in Bucky’s hair and he’s pulling him in, closer, closer, their lips moving together at such a beautiful pace.

“Baby,” he sighs against Bucky’s mouth, overcome with emotion for how much he loves him. “Baby,” he says again when Bucky moves in even closer along Steve’s lap, and Steve moves his hands down to wrap around Bucky’s waist, holding him in tightly against him.

Bucky murmurs an enthusiastic approval as Steve’s lips travel over his jaw and down to his neck, lingering there for a while in a series of warm, open-mouthed kisses. He begins to slowly trail his lips back up the path they just took, but Bucky impatiently takes hold of Steve’s face and brings their mouths back together in a desperate kiss.

Steve’s hands move down from Bucky’s back to his ass, and Bucky seems surprised but doesn’t pull away. Instead he fists his hands in to Steve’s hair, and at first Steve absolutely approves, but then Bucky holds on just a little too hard, seemingly unintentionally, and Steve grows concerned for him.

Bucky’s pulse is quickening at an alarming rate under Steve’s fingers, and he can just feel it in the way Bucky has begun to kiss him that he’s suddenly only half in this.

“Hey,” Steve breaks apart from him, very out of breath and with very swollen lips, a small frown on his face. “Do you need a minute?”

“No, I’m fine,” Bucky says, leaning back in to push his lips in to Steve’s. But his hand in Steve’s hair is starting to tremble, and Steve pulls away again.

“Seriously, it’s okay,” he whispers, “it’s okay if you want to stop.”

“I said I’m fine,” Bucky sounds angry, but his eyes are sad and his brow is furrowed, and Steve knows he’s only angry with himself.

“You’re not fine,” he says softly.

Bucky growls in frustration and climbs out of Steve’s lap, leaning over to purposely hit his head repeatedly against the wall behind their bed. “I’m sorry, I just—I’ll be fine in a minute, I want to do this,” but they both know he’s lying. He may want to do this, but he’s not fine, and he won’t be fine in a minute, either.

Steve pulls him away from the wall and rubs the spot on his forehead he’s been hitting against the concrete. “Breathe.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, “I really…I really thought I could handle it."

“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve runs his hand up and down Bucky’s back. “Really.”

Whenever Bucky and Steve get anything close to going further than kissing and light touching, Bucky has never been able to do it. He’s tried to explain it; tried to _understand_ it. He thinks it’s because his feelings get so intense – emotional, physical and those pesky natural sexual ones – and they’re all feelings he was always scolded for _back then_. Mostly, Bucky can control the way he panics during flashbacks in the day now. But there’s something about this, the heat and intensity and intimacy, that heightens it all. It’s not that he doesn’t _want_ to have sex with Steve, because fuck, of course he does. But he just…he struggles. A lot. And a part of him feels ridiculous for it because he's a grown man, for fuck's sake, and he's had sex before. It shouldn't be a big deal. But yet, it is.

Steve is, of course, always quick to assure him that it's fine and completely understandable.

“I…I was handling kissing,” Bucky says, “I—I _love_ kissing you like that, I could do it all day, but I just…I was in my head.”

Steve holds his hand, smoothing his thumb over Bucky’s. “It’s okay,” he soothes, and Bucky briefly wonders how many times a day Steve says that. “We can keep kissing, if you want, when you’re ready. It won’t go any further than that. I promise.”

Bucky smiles, leaning forward to press his forehead in to Steve’s, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He begins to play lightly with Steve’s fingers, and Steve plays with his in return, just absently running his fingertips over the gaps between Bucky’s fingers.

It’s the quiet moment Bucky needed to get himself together. He feels ready to kiss Steve again.

No, it’s more than that. He kind of _needs_ to kiss Steve again.

So he does. And Steve doesn’t expect any more from him, and because he knows that, Bucky feels like he can breathe again.

Especially when Steve opens his mouth against his, and then they’re breathing in to each other’s lungs, holding each other’s faces and kissing each other senseless. He could do this forever, to be honest. Cupping his hands on Steve’s face, being so close to him, and only wanting to be closer.

* * *

Sometimes, when Bucky can’t sleep, he’ll just roll over to face Steve, and watch.

It could be kind of creepy to watch him sleep, Bucky supposes, but he’s his boyfriend and he just wants to look at him always. Whether he’s awake or asleep.

He looks over Steve’s face; the way the moonlight coming through the windows is casting highlights and shadows over him, the way his features are so peaceful. He’s all curled up on himself, arms tucked in to his chest, and the covers are only pulled up to his waist. Bucky takes a moment just to watch the way Steve’s chest rises and falls as he breathes, so calmly and rhythmically.

He wants to reach out and trace his fingers over Steve’s face; run his hands gently through his hair. But he can’t, not unless he wants to wake him up, which he absolutely doesn’t.

So instead he just lies there, smiling softly to himself, because he loves this part about living together. He loves _every_ part of living together, of course, but right now this is the most prominent. He gets to spend every night lying beside Steve and, even when he can’t sleep, it’s really not such a bad deal.

 

When Steve stirs a while later, he shuffles closer to Bucky and wraps an arm over his waist. Bucky does the same in return and leans in to leave a soft kiss on his forehead.

“You ’k?” Steve mutters.

Bucky smiles, settling his head against the pillow so it’s right beside Steve’s. “I’m perfect.”

Steve seems very happy with Bucky’s answer, even in his half-asleep state, and Bucky moves in to kiss his forehead again.

* * *

Bucky gets put on new anxiety meds and, although they seem to be helping, it’s taking a little while for his body to get used to them. He’s been feeling a little nauseous today, so Steve runs him a bath which Bucky gratefully accepts, but now he wants to get out and he’s feeling very dizzy. He looks around for something he could hold on to as he gets up, but there’s nothing.

Just as he’s about to call Steve, there’s a knock at the door. “Buck?” Steve’s voice comes through the wood. “Can I come in? I just need to grab something.”

“Yeah, come in.”

The door opens and Steve gives Bucky a big smile before heading over to the cabinet under the sink. “I’m just looking to see what shampoo we bought last week. I wanna get some more.”

Bucky tries to reply, but he’s too busy holding his forehead, trying to stave off another wave of dizziness.

Steve turns to him, notices his position, and frowns. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just…getting dizzy waves. Don't know if I can stand up.”

“Oh, do you want me to help you?”

“Could you?”

“Of course,” Steve puts down the shampoo bottle, closes the cabinet and heads straight over to Bucky. “I’m gonna get you to sit on the closed toilet seat, then get your towel, then you can lay in bed, okay?”

Bucky nods. “Okay.”

“We can watch our movie in bed, I’ll bring my laptop through.”

Bucky smiles as Steve lifts him from the bath with his arm around his back. “That sounds perfect.”

“Okay, just sit here for a second, I’ll grab your towel,” Steve walks to the hooks on the door and comes back to wrap the towel around Bucky’s waist and tuck it in so it stays up. He heads out for a moment to go lay a towel on their bed and then he comes back to help him through to their room. “There,” he helps lay him down and Bucky shuffles himself up so his head is against the pillow.

“Thanks, love.” Bucky says, bringing his hand up to hold his forehead again, closing his eyes.

“Is it the meds?” Steve strokes his hand over Bucky’s hair.

“Yeah, I think so. I’m okay, though. I’ll get used to them.”

“I’ll bring you some water.”

When Steve comes back five minutes later, his laptop is tucked under his arm and there’s a glass of water in each of his hands. He places one on Bucky’s side of the bed, then one on his own, and then sets the laptop at the end of the mattress. He helps Bucky in to his pajamas, doing it as best he can without having to get him to sit up. It’s a little tricky when it comes to the shirt; he has to sit up a tiny bit to get it over his head but they manage to do it in between waves of dizziness, so it’s not so bad.

Steve sits up against the headboard beside Bucky, and Bucky shuffles up to put his head in Steve’s lap. They play the movie, Steve turning off one of their bedside lights to make it easier to see, and then he begins softly stroking Bucky’s hair. Bucky sighs contentedly.

“Okay?” Steve checks.

He nods sleepily. “More than okay.” He takes Steve’s other hand, the one that’s not in his hair, and brings it forward to sit just below Steve’s knee. He leans forward and presses a kiss to Steve’s knuckles, then just nuzzles his nose against them.

“Love you,” Bucky murmurs.

“Love you too, babe.”

* * *

It may have been over seventy years ago, but the anniversary of Steve’s mom’s death still hits him hard every year.

Bucky wakes up after Steve that morning, remembering what day it is as soon as he turns over to face him and finds him just lying there, staring at the ceiling.

Bucky shuffles in closer. “You okay?” he asks, laying a hand on Steve’s chest.

Steve just shrugs one shoulder. He’s got that look on his face; the look he always used to get whenever he was overcome with grief. He doesn’t look like that very often anymore but, when he does, Bucky recognises it instantly. It may not be immediately obvious to anyone else, but to Bucky, it’s blatant.

“Can I get you anything? Some breakfast? Do you feel like eating?” He’s stroking his fingers along Steve’s arm now, looking down at him, trying to work out what he needs Bucky to do.

“I could eat,” Steve says eventually, “only something small.”

“Shall I bring you something through?”

Steve sits up without meeting Bucky’s eyes and swings his legs off the bed. “No, I can get up.”

Bucky watches with a small sigh as Steve leaves the room, his head hanging low and shoulders all hunched. He’s being distant; Bucky can already sense it. And that’s okay, especially because Bucky is sure that he’ll eventually turn to him and ask for a hug and that’ll be when the wall of numbness breaks down.

When Bucky pulls on a shirt and then heads through in to the kitchen, he finds Steve through in the adjoining living room, just standing there, staring at a picture of his mother they have sitting in a frame by the window. He’s holding it in his hand, just staring. Not crying – not yet at least – but just…looking. Silently, distantly. Bucky can tell he’s not in the mood to talk about it, or for a truck load of sympathy.

Bucky slowly walks up behind him and leans in to place a kiss on his cheek and touch his waist just softly. “I can make some eggs, if you’d like.”

Steve nods. “Eggs sound good.”

Bucky watches him for a moment, wishing there was something he could do, then just leans in to kiss him on the cheek again, this time letting his lips linger a little longer on his skin. When Steve gets like this – so silent, pushing Bucky away, barely talking or wanting any comfort at all – it’s really hard for Bucky to watch. He almost wishes Steve would be crying, reaching for Bucky’s hand and letting the tears fall in to Bucky’s shirt. That way, Bucky would be able to better understand his heartache, and hold him in, and comfort him.

But when Steve doesn’t want comfort or sympathy or to talk about how he’s feeling, and he gets that glazed-over look in his eyes, it’s even harder to watch than a tear rolling down Steve’s cheek.

(And that says a lot, because it’s pretty fucking hard to see Steve crying.)

For now, he just settles on taking extra care of Steve today and keeping a very close eye on him until he decides – _if_ he decides – he wants a good cry and a cuddle.

Bucky makes breakfast in silence, occasionally humming to himself, trying to fill in the quiet somehow. Steve is still staring at the picture of his mother. Bucky watches him carefully as he cooks, making sure he doesn’t start crying or shaking or show any signs of needing physical support.

“Breakfast’s ready,” Bucky calls over to him, placing two plates of scrambled eggs and toast on the dining table, along with two mugs of coffee.

Steve waits a moment, but then places the photo frame back on the dresser and walks over to the table. “Thank you,” he says gently, not looking up as he reaches out across the table to give Bucky’s hand a quick squeeze before pulling back to dig in to his food. The simple touch of their hands is enough to make Bucky feel ten times more useful. It even makes him smile just a little.

They spend the rest of the morning watching movies, sitting on the sofa, only really half cuddling. Steve sits beside Bucky and lets him put an arm around his shoulders, but other than that he remains in his own bubble.

Bucky has a moment of panic when he realises that the movie they’ve chosen has one of the main characters die towards the end. As it’s about to happen, Steve tenses, and Bucky immediately turns to him and frowns deeply.

“Is this—I’m sorry, I didn’t think…is this okay?”

Steve just nods. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

But as they watch the woman die on the screen, Steve reaches out to place his hand over Bucky’s thigh, and he squeezes tightly as he tries not to cry. Bucky just holds him tighter, and his heart breaks as Steve’s hand on his leg begins to shake.

 

Steve’s back to staring at that photo of his mother.

Bucky finishes washing the dishes and cleaning the bathroom, then softly pads over to where Steve stands by the window, her photo in one hand and his other elbow propped against the dresser, head in his hand.

Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s waist from behind, pressing his face in to the back of Steve’s neck. He nuzzles there for a moment, then looks over his shoulder to see the beautiful picture of Sarah.

“She would’ve been so proud of you,” Bucky whispers, “you know that, right?”

Steve sniffs, but Bucky isn’t sure if he’s even crying. He nods. “Yeah. I know.” And his voice is so sad and low, it makes Bucky’s heart wrench.

“You look so alike,” Bucky smiles fondly, holding on tighter to Steve’s waist.

“She was more beautiful than me, though.”

“She was stunning,” Bucky agrees, and then, “and she had an equally stunning son.”

Steve laughs lightly through his nose. After a moment, he carefully places the frame back down on the wood and slowly turns to Bucky. Bucky watches his face, but Steve doesn’t meet his eyes.

Instead, he just wraps his arms around him, and Bucky is more than willing to hold him like this for as long as he needs. Standing in their living room, no tears being shed yet, but Steve trembling a little and holding on to Bucky like he’s a lifeline. He just wants to take all the pain away.

 

Later, once they’ve watched another movie – a nice, easy Disney movie this time, with no deaths in sight – Steve turns his head in to Bucky’s chest, and begins to cry. He cries silently, just with tears running down his face and soaking in to Bucky’s T-shirt.

Bucky wraps both arms around him, holding him in so tightly, kissing his head and nuzzling his nose against his hair.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers.

“It’s been so long,” Steve says, and Bucky could sigh with relief because Steve is finally beginning to stop bottling everything up. “It’s been so long, but it…it feels like just yesterday that it happened. It’s stupid, I—I shouldn’t be this sad and distraught about something that happened so many decades ago…,”

“It’s not stupid,” Bucky is quick to assure him, stroking his hand over Steve’s hair. And then, he continues, “that’s the thing about grief, though, Steve—sometimes you feel okay, like maybe you can heal, like maybe life can go on without them as long as they live in your memory. But then, days like this, it feels like it’s happening all over again. Like the pain will _never_ stop…,”

“That’s exactly what this feels like.” Steve admits weakly.

“And that’s okay. It’s okay to feel like that. But you have to believe me when I say that you won’t feel this bad forever.”

“It doesn’t feel like that now,”

“It will,” Bucky kisses his head, cradling him in his arms, “it will, love. I promise it will feel better one day.”

“When did you get so wise?”

Bucky chuckles. “I do have about a hundred years of life experience.”

Steve chuckles, too, albeit weakly, and it’s music to Bucky’s ears. “I suppose that’s true.”

 

Sam comes by later on in the afternoon.

Steve is curled up on the sofa away from view of the front door. He’s usually the one who answers the door, but today, Bucky is taking on that responsibility. Steve tells him he doesn’t want to see anyone the minute they hear the knocking, so Bucky just kisses him on the forehead, says, “I’ll handle it”, and heads over to the door.

“Hey,” Bucky greets Sam when he opens the door.

“Hey,” Sam says, hesitancy already in his voice. “I just…came by to—well, I know what today is…,”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods. “He appreciates you coming by, man, thank you, but I don’t think he’s feeling up to seeing anyone else today.”

“Is he okay?” Sam asks it like he already knows the answer.

“Yeah, he’s okay,” Bucky says sadly, “as okay as he can be. Or at least, he will be okay.”

“I know he puts up a good front most of the time.”

Bucky smiles, sad but with a hint of fondness. “Yeah, he does.”

“I’ll leave you to it, I just—I thought I’d better come by. Nat wanted to come, too, but I thought…,” he fades off.

“Yeah. I think he just wants to be alone. Or as alone as possible given he lives with me.”

Sam chuckles a little. “Yeah. You’ll call me if you need anything, though, right?”

Bucky nods. “I will,” he reaches out and claps Sam’s shoulder. “Thank you for coming by.”

Sam smiles and nods. “Anytime.”

After Bucky closes the door he walks back over to Steve, he lifts Steve's legs so he can sit down before placing them back over his own lap.

“Alright?” Bucky asks.

“What was Sam here for?” Steve asks in reply, and Bucky doesn’t miss how he’s just avoided the question.

“He came to see how you were.”

Steve sighs. “I feel bad I had you send him away, but I just…I can’t handle people today. Apart from you. Obviously.”

Bucky smiles sadly, rubbing his hand over Steve’s shin. “He understood. It was fine. He said to call if we need anything.”

“But he knows we’re both stubborn as shit and don’t accept help until it’s a life or death situation.”

Bucky chuckles. “That’s painfully true.”

 

They eat dinner in almost silence. Bucky has enough experience of just having one arm to be able to eat no problem whilst Steve grasps one of his hands on top of the table, but Steve is struggling to cut his meat.

“Do you need a hand?” Bucky asks, and then, “no pun intended, I swear.”

“No, I…,”

Bucky loosens his grip on Steve’s hand. “It’s okay. You can let go for a second. I’m not going anywhere.”

As soon as he’s finished cutting up every piece of food on his plate, Steve reaches across straight away and takes Bucky’s hand in his, threading their fingers together.

After dinner they curl up on the sofa, curled in to each others’ embraces, arms around each other as Steve lets out quiet little weeps. Bucky finds himself with a few tears on his own cheeks, too, partly because he misses Sarah and partly because of Steve being in pain. He wonders what Sarah would have to say about all this; about everything that’s happened to them. She’d probably want to kill the people who did what they did to Bucky, and once all that was handled and she threatened anyone who would ever hurt her son, she would then start wedding plans without an actual engagement, and house plans for Steve and Bucky’s future.

Looking back, Bucky thinks that Sarah always knew how much he loved her son. How he loved him as more than a friend. And he knows, without a shred of doubt, that she would have loved and supported them in the relationship they have now.

 

After a while, Steve asks Bucky if he still wants a shower before bed.

“Is that okay?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah,” Steve waves a dismissive hand, “I’ll be fine for a couple minutes. I’ll get ready for bed.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, “only if you’re sure.”

Steve kisses him as a response, and Bucky smiles, heading off in to the bathroom to shower as quickly as he can.

After stepping back in to their room wearing just his pajama bottoms, rubbing a towel over his hair to dry most of it off, he looks over at the bed to see Steve curled up on his side of the mattress. Bucky pulls his still-damp hair in to a loose bun, hangs his towel on the radiator to dry, and then crawls up behind Steve to wrap his arm around him.

“You alright?” He asks, but he saw the tears on Steve’s cheeks the minute he walked in, and now Steve is beginning to weep. Out loud, this time.

Bucky holds him in even closer. “It’s okay,” he says as Steve’s sobs get louder, “it’s okay.”

Steve grasps Bucky’s hand and holds on tight.

Bucky tries to find words, any words, that could possibly help alleviate Steve’s pain. Words that could say to him, simply and deeply, how Steve isn’t alone, and he never will be. That Bucky loves him more than anything, and will until the end of time.

And then, a thought. A memory.

“I’m with you,” Bucky whispers in Steve’s ear, nuzzling his nose against his hair.

And Steve hums out a wet little laugh mixed with a sob. “’Til the end of the line.” Steve finishes, then sobs, turning around in Bucky’s arms so he can press his head in to his chest, letting his tears soak in to Bucky’s shirt.

* * *

“Can we at least get, like, a fish?”

“We can’t get a fish, Steve.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re useless. You can’t cuddle a fish.”

“They are not useless. They’re amazing creatures. God, you’re so judgmental to the fish.”

“I don’t not like fish, Steven. I just don’t think they make good pets.”

“Take that back.”

“Never.” Bucky is smirking now, teasing Steve with his head held a little high and a playful glint in his eyes.

Steve sighs. “Can we _please_ get a rabbit? Or some rats?”

“Do you hear yourself right now? Steve. Babe.”

“ _What_?”

“Steve, you are Captain America. We are Avengers. We can’t look after pets; what would you do when we suddenly get called away on a mission? You can’t just call up a pet sitter and be like, ‘hey, I’m on the way to fucking Europe, the pets need you’.”

Steve sighs again and presses his face in to Bucky’s neck. They’re standing in the kitchen making dinner, standing side by side getting ingredients together. Bucky stops what he’s doing and wraps an arm around Steve.

“I guess you’re right,” he’s being purposely over-dramatically sad about all this. It makes Bucky smile. “So no pets. Got it.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“Can we at least go to the pet shelter so I can pine over the cats?”

“Isn’t that a bit masochistic?”

“Yes. Entirely.”

Bucky chuckles, leaving a kiss on Steve’s head before turning back to the red pepper he’s cutting.

“I can just imagine walking in to the living room and seeing you sitting there with our dog, all curled up on the sofa,” Steve says. “It’d be the best thing ever.”

“Well, maybe one day, Steve. For now, get your ass in gear and put the oven on.”

 

Planning for the future once seemed like an impossible concept. After all, both Bucky and Steve have thought several times that they were dead or never to be reunited. But now they’re standing here making dinner together in their pajamas talking about one day getting a dog. And, yeah, Bucky had a nightmare last night, and his hands haven’t entirely stopped shaking since he woke up at 4am with sweat on his brow and his throat raw from screaming. And Steve hadn’t been sleeping to begin with; so much so that there are dark circles under his eyes and all his movements are a little slower.

Life isn’t perfect. It never has been, and it never will be. But being here, together, in their own little apartment, living their lives _together_ after all these years – after all they’ve been through – it feels like maybe they’re going to be okay. No—they’re _definitely_ going to be okay.

Because Bucky’s simultaneously cuddling him and telling him to get his lazy ass in gear.

And one day, they might get a dog.

Really, it’s not such a bad way to live.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been in the stucky fandom for yEARS, but this is the first fic i've ever published for some reason!?! idk why, i'm mad at myself about it tho. so i'm sorry if it was a little ooc, i'm sososo nervous to post this :') pls go easy on me :')  
> i really hope you enjoyed this fic! please do leave kudos and/or comments if you did, and thank you so much for reading <3 
> 
> Love :* xxx


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